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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286150">genesis to terminus; arceus to eternatus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuseirune/pseuds/ryuusinrune'>ryuusinrune (ryuuseirune)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters: Sword &amp; Shield | Pokemon Sword &amp; Shield Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Coping, Dream Sex, Fate &amp; Destiny, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Parallels, Philosophy, Pining, Porn With Plot, Prose Poem, Screw Destiny, Trauma, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:26:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuseirune/pseuds/ryuusinrune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mortality, and what happens when we die.</p><p>or,</p><p>Victor learns that being the reincarnation of a king may not be as glamorous as it seems. After all, lucid dreaming is only great up until the point where you witness something you don't like, and everything becomes a nightmare.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hop/Masaru | Victor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>genesis to terminus; arceus to eternatus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wow look another angsty fic! i'm sure this was completely totally unexpected.</p><p>yes i wrote a fucking sonnet for this fic in iambic pentameter.<br/>and i used an idiom for the title.<br/>and i wrote a haiku.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Seeing Hop’s face every day is enough to make Victor happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what he’d said when they’d first become roommates, at least – but his selfish heart still wants more. Victor is madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with Hop – and there’s nothing he can do about it. One, confessing is out of the question – if Victor gets rejected, he’ll be experiencing heartbreak for the remainder of their two-year lease. Two, Victor doesn’t even know if dating Hop is what he desires – perhaps his thoughts are better festering underneath his skin, remaining as fantasies until they eventually flicker and die out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing lasts forever, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except maybe Eternatus – but that’s a different story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls out of bed, shaking the exhaustion that weighs heavy on his limbs. He’s still fatigued from the prior day’s weight training, but overall, he manages to rid his body of that despicable feeling. His mind, however, still feels like it’s lagging behind him, groggy with the burden of a fantasy. Something vague, something half there – but it was definitely about his best friend. This inability to recollect things is out of character for Victor – especially when it comes to Hop, and anything including Hop. He nearly remembers everything about Hop – all of the things he’s done with the man in the past, all of his quirks, and even the hue of his gorgeous eyes against a starry sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing that Victor doesn’t remember is the day he met Hop. Perhaps it’s because so much time has passed since Victor has known Hop that it’s absurd to even think there was a time </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. Frankly, Victor doesn’t want to imagine his childhood without Hop and his Wooloo, who were always there to comfort Victor whenever he cried. Before Hop, Victor hadn’t even a proper name – not in Galarian, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to think about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing Victor does remember is his eighth birthday party. Rather, he remembers helping his mother bake his own cake – and the scent of vanilla extract. Victor remembers Hop showing up midway through and helping Victor stir the too-thick batter. He remembers the dull pain in his upper arms and the satisfaction when Gloria finally slid the cake into the oven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clearest image from that day, however, is Hop’s smile when he sees Victor open his present. Victor can’t recall what’s inside the box, nor what words are exchanged, but he remembers Hop’s expression, his lustrous voice, and his glee. Perhaps it’s because the image of the gift exchange is preserved in family photo books, but Victor wants to pretend his nightmare-ridden childhood was made leagues better by Hop’s gorgeous grin.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Valor is like smoke, distorting as he rises: untouchable, yet still distinctly </span>
  </em>
  <span>there</span>
  <em>
    <span>; silken and coruscating. Each band of light that whirs across Valor’s vinyl body burns undiscovered colors into Horizon’s retinas, and all he can do is writhe in pain as Valor takes the full brunt of the Toxtricity’s attack. Even at a distance, Horizon can feel static dance through the air – and he can almost see it, too – a dull purple like the color of Gala’s lips. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gala is gone – dying. Valor quakes over his sister’s burnt and punctured body as the gigantic lizard roars. Gala couldn’t have known her dear Pokémon would grow to such a size, much less attack her in her sleep – but Horizon still curses under his breath at her foolishness. It’s not her fault, he knows – not in the slightest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gala,” Valor chokes out, “don’t go.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She reaches up toward her twin’s face and brushes away the dirt encrusting his blood-spattered cheeks. Gala opens her mouth to speak, and with vivid crimson trickling down her chin, she smiles.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The three of us… will meet again in another life.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor first realizes that Hop likes his sister during the Gym Challenge. They’re camping in the Wild Area, closer to Postwick than to Motostoke. It’s still the beginning of their journey, and Victor’s only Pokemon are a Budew, a Sobble, and a Sizzlipede. Wooloo snuggles up next to his trainer – flush against Hop’s skin even in the campfire’s warmth. Hop hums into Victor’s shoulder – and his face feels like a hot coal on bare skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Victor mumbles, nudging his friend. “You’re heavy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger boy is fast asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor says, a little louder this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna wake up,” Hop slurs, “I wanna stay by your side, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Glo.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not Gloria,” Victor grumbles. He takes Hop’s hand and tugs him up and over his shoulders, fully supporting his friend. “Let’s go to sleep in the tent, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glooooo,” Hop whines. “I don’t wanna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor drags Hop into their shared tent and practically drops him onto his sleeping bag with an exhausted grunt. Hop sleeps like a brick – no matter what Victor says, he doesn’t respond, and Victor’s back hurts after carrying him. If this keeps up, Victor will get arthritis early on – and he’ll only have Hop to blame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs, tucks his friend in, and heads off to bed. His cheeks ache from a too-familiar fake smile – and even if Hop isn’t looking, Victor still wants to pretend for himself. Sure, he doesn’t even know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s upset – doesn’t know that what he’s feeling is envy; nor does he know that a crush has already taken root in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor teases Hop about his crush the next day. He forgets the heavy confusion settling in his chest.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Now that Victor is old and grown, and Hop is pleasantly sharing a living space with him, he feels like he understands the childish, jealous constriction in his sense of self. There’s really no way to escape his jaded worldview. When the scales have fallen from his eyes like teardrops from the heavens and the Earth’s shadow stains the moon scarlet, Victor feels like he’s watching a part of the past. History is bound to repeat itself, just as the lunar eclipse will – and Victor is bound to be left alone again. That is the nature of this cruel reality – and who is he to argue?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pen dances across the page of his journal. He imagines snippets of the world – imagines them entangled in the strings of a dreamcatcher. With fragmented feelings dancing on his palms, he translates his ideas into words – tearing a new seam in space for a design that is all his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You move through my mind like calligraphy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A paintbrush mulling over scars</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carving characters I don’t understand</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With a kaleidoscope of ink </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That stains my mind</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor frowns. That can’t be right – yes, Hop has left an impact on him, but the way he’s phrased it on paper is much too depressing to truly convey his feelings. Of course, Hop will never see these poems, but if Victor is going to write something about Hop, it should at the very least do him justice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tears the paper out and crumples it before chucking it into the trash bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he has to write a trillion poems, Victor won’t stop until he finds the right words. And maybe, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe,</span>
  </em>
  <span> if Victor feels brave enough when they’re watching the stars drift late at night – he can recite it to Hop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he even finishes his work before he falls out of love, that is.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Do you ever, like, get nightmares about dying in someone else’s body?” Gloria asks over a video call one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor has to stop and actually think about it. The concept does sound familiar – he’s pretty sure there have been times when he’s woken up with the echoes of Old Galarian in his mind. But he’s never died in his dreams – nor has he ever had a nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” he answers earnestly. “If I do, then I don’t really remember them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” she responds blandly, looking at something off-screen. “I feel like… I’ve been having nightmares lately, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria is silent for a few seconds, frowning to herself as if she’s in thought. “I don’t know. Like – I always wake up scared, and my lungs hurt, and I’m crying. It’s weird. I get all nostalgic over these people – but then when I wake up I can’t remember their names or faces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds unpleasant,” Victor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gloria sighs. “I guess I can’t really do much about it, though. Maybe I just need to do more cardio and it’ll go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Victor agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of his day is mostly normal – he goes through the Battle Tower a few times, chats with Leon for a bit, and then heads home for dinner. It’s when he’s setting up for bed that things start to get a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird. He keeps hearing Zacian’s howl – even though his partner is tucked away in her ball, fast asleep on the opposite side of the room. And every time he looks over at Eternatus’s resting figure, he feels discomfort settle in his throat. Victor has always treasured the dragon – loved her dearly. He has never truly felt fear when looking at her – but yet, tonight, her presence makes his knees shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor settles into bed, Wooloo plushie at his side. He lets his eyes flutter shut – lets the air wash over him just enough to keep him comfortable. Nocturnal creatures rustle around in the trees outside as he closes his eyes, ready to drift off into a peaceful sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then right before he sinks into his dreamscape, his lungs begin to burn.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Val,” a familiar voice calls out to him. “May I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Victor’s body begins to move against his will. It rises from its comfortable position, placing down its quill. He seems to have little to no control over his actions – although he can definitely be sure that he’s dreaming. “Val” trots over to the door, opening it to reveal Gloria’s beaming face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Gala,” Val greets her. Victor feels odd hearing his sister called by the wrong name – but she makes no move to correct the man; instead, she pulls him in for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you miss your big sis?” Gloria – no, Gala – teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must I remind you that we are twins?” Val grunts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m older by five minutes,” she smirks, just like Gloria would. Gala’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, her lips curve up, and if Victor squints he can almost observe the mischief in her smile. “Anyway, you’re avoiding my question – did you miss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in particular,” Val says. “I just saw you yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valooooor,” she whines. That must be this person’s name, Victor thinks. If this person is twins with this girl who looks just like Gloria – do they look like me? “Come on, at least entertain me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” and Victor can sense a ghost of a smile on Valor’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes, Gala changes the topic. “Anyway, you’ve been locked in here for so long that I was starting to get worried. What’s keeping you so busy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valor moves to slam the door shut on her – but Gala is much too fast for him, and far too stubborn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t shut me out again,” she pleads. “We’re siblings first – and I know you’re the king now, but we still have to look out for each other. Look – if there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really appreciate your sincerity, but I can’t bear to look at you right now,” Valor says. His voice sounds… broken, in an odd way. Victor can sense jealousy, anger, and misery all throughout Valor’s tone – and it leaves him wondering why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” she says. “At least let Horizon see you. He misses you deeply –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I when he’s so deeply in love with you that he won’t even look at me,” Valor says bitterly. “He’s just a Wooloo farmer, anyway. Nothing good would come of our relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the former king’s little brother and your best friend since diapers, you dimwit,” Gala snaps at him. “And maybe if you went out more he’d actually, you know, be able to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck if I know,” he grumbles back. “I can’t just prance around hoping that he’ll fall in love with me. I’m not nearly as pretty as you are. Sometimes I think I got all of the bad genes between the two of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up,” she huffs. “Why don’t you just ask Horizon what he thinks of you before you go off saying these things about yourself? And plus – you never know. I think you’re just blaming me for stealing him away when in actuality you’re just too chicken to come out and say it to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really sounds like Gloria is lecturing Victor – and it terrifies him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not chicken, I’m just not stupid enough to confess to someone already so in love,” Valor replies. “If you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Gala huffs. “But I’m telling him you want to see him tomorrow night in your chambers. Do with that what you will, but don’t stand him up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor can feel Valor’s heart go wild underneath his skin.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Gloria,” he says. “I think I understand what you meant yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria always looks unamused when he wakes her up with a seven-o-clock call, but this time, it looks like she hasn’t slept in a while. There’s a near-empty pot of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter behind her, and her hands are visibly shaky every time she brings her mug to her lips. She’s never been one to use makeup – but an off-tone concealer is applied underneath her normally bright eyes, which seem a little duller than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Gloria yawns, running a hand through her bangs. “And why are you up so early, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dreams,” Victor says. “I had a dream last night, and I felt like I was seeing you. But it wasn’t you – it was someone else. I was in someone else’s body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria nods her head, still in a dazed state. “Yeah… sorry about that, Vic. I guess my vibes are contagious. Do you wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t,” Victor says. “There was this girl who looked like you – and she was scolding me for ignoring her and my best friend who I happened to like because I was so invested in work –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you,” she snorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’ve gotten better now,” Victor pouts. “Anyway, I just feel like – it was a really weird dream, although it was kind of mundane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t seeing your sister call someone else her twin kind of strange? And also, the place we were in was kind of familiar – but not really, and it felt like I was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> – can you believe that?” Victor exclaims. “It almost felt like I was in a fairytale! You even called me a king and everything, Glo – it was so surreal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much do you remember?” Gloria asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much everything,” Victor says. “You kept calling me Val – and you were Gala.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was Gala,” she repeats, staring into the depths of her coffee. “You were Valor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, hearing it out loud leaves a lump in Victor’s throat – it makes him feel strange and vulnerable, and for some reason, lonely. Gloria notices it too – they’re both sitting in uncomfortable silence, only interrupted by the chirping of birds outside. A sudden realization jumps up in his chest – and he has to voice it before it disappears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait – you said Valor,” Victor points out. “I didn’t tell you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria’s shoulders jump, and she glares into her coffee. “No, you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what I said,” Victor frowns. “Do you have the same dreams?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at him with misty eyes. He’s never seen this expression on her face before – and it pulls at something visceral deep inside of him, like the garden inside of his guts has just been torn apart and uprooted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor, you kept trying to save me – and all I could do was die.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll never be good enough,” a young Hop sobs into Victor’s shoulder.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cold, dark, and treacherous – that’s the way Victor would describe their current situation. Bundled up under blankets, their bodies pressed together in a shoddy attempt to share heat – Victor simultaneously feels so happy it makes him dizzy and so worried he could cry. While he can’t help but admit to liking Hop – his twinkling feelings are a roadblock to fully understanding the other boy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You already are good enough,” Victor whispers, rubbing Hop’s back. “You’ve made it so far into the Gym Challenge.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How can I – how can I even call myself your rival,” Hop stutters, sniffling. “I can’t even beat Bede. I can’t even beat you, either – I feel so useless.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not useless,” Victor responds. “Remember when you taught me how to make curry? And when I tripped and fell into the creek by your house and you were so brave to jump in and save me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We both got sick after,” Hop points out, but there’s a little bit of happiness in his eyes as he remembers their childhood together.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Remember when you went through that dictionary to translate my name into Galarian just so I would stop getting bullied by other kids?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It took me four days,” Hop says wistfully.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And now everyone calls me Victor – those four days shaped an entire lifetime, Hop,” Victor says excitedly, squeezing Hop a little tighter. “You may not be able to beat Bede, but that doesn’t matter. You’re strong and brave and you work hard in your own ways. That’s why I like you so much.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I like you too, Vic,” Hop smiles. “I’m glad we’re friends.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When they wake up the next morning, they’re still tangled together in a mess of sheets – and it takes hours just to get out. They don’t talk about what happened in the tent – but Hop seems like he’s doing a little better as they make their way through the Wild Area.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not something Victor has ever really understood – really, the concept of a life coming to an end is difficult for him to grasp. Sure, death surrounds him – via the food he eats, the flowers he picks. Even inside of him, things pass every second, with little thought given to their ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Gloria is different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not only his sister – but one of his closest friends. She’s the only person who he talks to daily – other than Hop, of course. Gloria has always, always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a presence in his life – even before Hop, even before Victor experienced consciousness. As zygotes in their mother’s womb, Victor and Gloria have known each other – although he supposes their bond extends past flesh ties, as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the rest of the world, he and Gloria breathe the same oxygen. But unlike the rest of the world, they are two sides of a coin – perhaps like Hegel and Schlegel, with their unfettered rivalry. Amaterasu or Susanoo may fit them better, however – two siblings caught in a never-ending war of emotions, slicing through the bitter skin of Earth with a sacred blade – or something. Victor has never been well-versed in mythology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, Gloria may have the same blood running through her veins – but she doesn’t love and care for Victor just because of their familial ties. Gloria is part of his life because she chooses to be – she chooses to stay by his side, as his friend, as his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s why the thought of losing her is so foreign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re distracted again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop’s voice calls out to him from across the dinner table, and this time, Victor can’t help but feel a little guilty. He places down the silver spoon in his left hand and sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Victor replies. “There’s a lot on my mind today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop hums, prompting Victor with an arch of his eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you do if you died in a dream, over and over again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an odd question – and even Hop, who’s used to solving complex equations and building up conservation strategies from absolutely nothing, seems stumped. Victor isn’t sure if Hop will respond at all, if ever – is there truly a correct answer to that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d go to therapy,” Hop replies, after a bit of thought. “There’s probably something in my life causing me stress, and I should maybe have a good conversation about what’s happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that seems about right,” Victor says, taking a swig of his water. “Sorry for worrying you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” Hop offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not me – it’s Gloria,” he explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shadow flashes over Hop’s face like lightning. “I see,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The thought must be disturbing to Hop too,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor assumes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>After all, he does love her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His feelings are sour on his tongue, ruining his appetite for the night. Just to make sure Hop doesn’t feel like his cooking is bad – because it’s delicious – Victor still scarfs it down, although he nearly gags twice during their shared meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never felt so ambivalent in his life.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dirty dishes stack up to the ceiling</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like my feelings for you,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They seem to rise without stopping.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t have another dream for two weeks, and then it happens again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emboldened, purple eyes gaze back at him as Gloria – no, Gala – is struck by her Toxtricity’s attack. The sound she makes leaves Victor’s ears ringing – it feels too real, too visceral for him to call it just a dream. He can smell the burning flesh – the scent of her blood mixing into the petrichor. And the air leaves every hair on his arm standing straight up as her shattered voice reverberates through his air so loudly he starts to hear it in his head when she stops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tox, please stop,” she begs at the top of her lungs. Valor reaches out a hand toward his sister in vain as the Pokémon begins to raise up a large chunk of the land.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gala!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he can do is watch as a pillar of earth crashes down on her, puncturing straight through her lung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes up, the stench of death is still fresh on his clothes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor stumbles into his room late at night with tears in his eyes and the Wooloo plushie tucked under one arm, and Hop doesn’t waste any time letting his best friend climb underneath the covers and into his embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Hop asks. Victor looks as if he’s about to scream into Hop’s chest, and he nearly feels bad for asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a bad dream,” he whispers. The Wooloo plushie is now pressed between their stomachs as Victor nuzzles his face into the crook of Hop’s neck. “Can I stay with you tonight, like old times?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a selfish request from him, Victor knows – but he really, really needs this right now. He needs Hop’s strong arms wrapped around him, needs the comforting beat of Hop’s heart, needs soft hands running through his hair to make him forget all of his worries once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor can be indulgent sometimes, and he’ll definitely write about it later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop rubs circles into his back as they hug – a massage that wears down the knots in his burdened mind rather than his body. Victor likes this – likes lying next to Hop and the scent of his shampoo that lingers on his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor knows that all good things come to an end, but he doesn’t want Hop to stop holding him like this, and he definitely doesn’t want to fall out of love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But like the rising and falling tides, some things are inevitable.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scared of what it means to love you,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scared of what it means to fall out of love.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like gold tinsel tickling my throat,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like cold fingers brushing against my neck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Loving you is like having stars hang from my ribcage,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or perhaps it’s more like fireworks in my gut.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>His Pokémon can tell there’s something bothering him when he nearly breaks down in tears just seeing Gloria’s Toxtricity in the background of a call. She doesn’t seem to harbor any hatred toward the poor animal, but Victor just feels something off whenever he sees it – and it hurts. Zacian tells him in the middle of his daily poetry sesh that he needs to get out more – and to be fair, she’s probably right</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following her advice, he makes plans to get tea with Opal the following day. Older women are usually wise and well-versed in matters of the heart, he reasons – or perhaps he just wants an excuse to visit Ballonlea again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor has always adored the Glimwood Tangle – even with its eerie atmosphere and hordes of Ghost-types, it managed to steal a special spot in his heart during his Gym Challenge. Perhaps it’s the bioluminescent mushrooms, or maybe it’s the fact that Ballonlea manages to look like it’s straight out of a fairytale – but either way, he feels at ease whenever he visits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opal welcomes him with open arms and a pot of tea, dragging him into her home with an overexcited grin on her face. Bede waves at him from the table – and suddenly Victor feels guilty for coming over. The poor Gym Leader probably had to wake up early for this, he realizes – but when Bede’s normally snarky face reappears, all sense of pity is erased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what brings you here today?” Bede asks him as he sits down at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had free time,” Victor says, “and I wanted to see two of my favorite trainers, so I came here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dearie, you can talk to me about anything,” Opal says, a slight twinkle in her eyes. “Bede here may seem heartless sometimes – but he really is fond of you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t really tell them about his troubles – he just goes on about how work is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so stressful</span>
  </em>
  <span> and how he really just needed a tea time in the middle of things. He doesn’t tell them about how he’s cried into Hop’s arms every night for the past week – not even because he’s having nightmares, but because he’s plagued by the image of Gloria’s perforated body and that god-awful scent of smoke and rust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Do they really need to know, anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor thinks they would be better off unaware. And if either unwittingly stumbles across the dream-verse that makes up his and Gloria’s nightmares, then it at least won’t be his fault.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“There’s something troubling you,” Opal points out when Bede leaves for gym duties a few hours later. “You’ve hardly touched your tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor hadn’t even noticed – the liquid is now lukewarm as he places the rim to his lips and takes a languid sip. “I guess you could say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, tell me what’s on your mind, my dear,” she smiles. In her eyes, Victor can see that eccentric whirl of colors, like an insight to the galaxy – and he feels small next to her knowing figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister and I have been having dreams that align in topic and characters,” Victor replies. “I have this unsettling feeling in the back of my mind, and I don’t know what to do with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my,” she says. “What say you, to the idea of reincarnation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reincarnation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Champion Victor – the stuff of stories. Have you ever wondered what comes after death? What if you haven’t completed everything you’ve wanted to before you pass away? What if you die young? Should you be given a second chance?” Opal asks, her words turning into whimsy melodies in his mind. “That, my dear – is rebirth. Life and death is a cycle, is it not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Victor says. “No – what are you implying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In this world, there is little that is not infinite,” Opal replies. “And regarding finite things – when something ends, something else must begin. That is the way of life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor isn’t sure he understands, but he nods anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and your sister didn’t grow up in Galar, did you?” Opal shifts her posture – making herself appear just a bit taller. “Have you ever read Sonia’s book on the Sword and Shield heroes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did when it came out, but never since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you should enlighten yourself on those previously considered the heroes of the Galar region,” Opal suggests. “You may find that there are parallels in your life and the lives of people around you. After all, it has been three hundred years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor stares at the now-empty cup in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fret over it. Just keep your mind open to new things.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Why did you want to visit the vault, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raihan seems a little weirded out by just how familiar Victor is with the whole area – and to be honest, Victor is bothered by it too. Just like these halls are his own, Victor finds that he wanders through them without needing to glance at the map or ask Raihan for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Victor says. “I wanted to read up on Galar’s history, and I just thought this would be the best place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raihan seems satisfied with the answer, however vague it is, leaning against the doorway. Victor grazes over dust-covered books with his fingers, trying to find ones that speak of the old heroes. One book, however, stands taller than the others – and Victor finds himself intrigued to the degree that he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to pull it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t expect the ground to shake as the bookcase moves backward inch by inch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck did you do?” Raihan screeches as metal squeals underneath them, kicking up dirt as cold air rushes in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Victor says defensively. “I was just trying to get this book, and –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Raihan exclaims, flashing his teeth at his junior. With a spark in his eyes, Raihan calls out his Rotom. He’s about to take a picture before he decides otherwise – the vault is a piece of history, and it probably shouldn’t be shared with the public.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bookcase swings to the left, revealing a too-familiar hallway that sends Victor’s stomach spinning. His legs act on their own – leading Victor to a panel on the wall. He presses against the splintering wood, and it begins to move under his weight – revealing a well-kept room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the center is a desk – just like the one from his dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even the ink stains are the same,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor notes as Raihan frets over the new discovery in the background. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps what Opal said was right.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So you’re telling me that you’re a reincarnation of the old hero, Valor,” Gloria says slowly, “and I’m a reincarnation of his sister, Gala. What does that make Hop? Horizon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” Victor says meekly. “I don’t know if this is true – but it seems like too much of a coincidence to be anything else, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So does this mean you and Hop are fucking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor nearly spits out his tea.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Okay, so maybe the old heroes were rumored to be madly in love but too foolish to confess to each other. And maybe there’s blatant evidence that Valor wrote lengthy love poems to Horizon, and that every night they met in Valor’s chambers to “get down,” whatever that meant 300 years ago. But that </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean Victor is in love with Hop, or that he wants to screw Hop, or that he writes love poems to Hop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>the poetry part is true – but Victor is Victor, not Valor. Even if part of his soul is intertwined with the soul of a “half-alien” king from the past, Victor is still himself. Victor is first and foremost human – it doesn’t matter who he once was, Victor will cling onto his own sense of self until the day he disintegrates into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raihan, surprisingly, doesn’t share their discovery on social media. Opal doesn’t ask him about what he’s learned. Hop still returns home every day with a new fact on his tongue and the scent of cleaning products still lingering on his lab coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And unfortunately, they do not have sexual intercourse like Valor and Horizon allegedly once did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Victor lets his mind wander, lets himself forget that love is like a supernova – a blast of emotions and feelings, and then nothingness, only alive within memories. Victor doesn’t have to imagine what it’s like to hold Hop close – he’s so familiar with every curve, every scar – even every divot in his figure. But Victor does imagine running his hands over Hop’s chest like a boat on a mirror-smooth lake. He imagines kissing the nape of Hop’s neck when he’s hunched over paperwork until Hop melts into his arms like putty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pretends Hop loves him when they sit across from each other, sharing a meal. He lets his heart roam over wildflower-peppered fields where they lay in the grass. By day the two name clouds and mimic birds; by night they trace constellations with their index fingers and sing airy love songs. He dances with Hop through star nurseries, watching as nebulas speckle the sky with trillions of colors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he remembers why he can’t love Hop like he wants to, and the happy fantasy he’s built from star-shaped grains of sand collapses around him, trickling from his mind like a stream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop loves Gloria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s such an idiot.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Horizon’s kisses dance across Valor’s neck – little marks that reek of love and affection. Victor, trapped inside of Valor’s body, is stuck underneath the Hop-lookalike – and it actually makes him </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valor,” Horizon rasps into his neck. “I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taller man shuffles around on Valor’s lap, sparking arousal with little trouble. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did this have to be my dream?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor thinks to himself as Horizon strips to his undergarments. Being forced to watch a scene of your past self having sexual intercourse with someone who looks exactly like your best friend is, suffice to say, unpleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what Victor tries to convince himself – but honestly, he’s kinda enjoying it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valor’s hands rise to Horizon’s hips. Arceus, both men are buffer than their modern-day counterparts. Horizon’s abdomen, his thighs, his biceps – everything is shredded. Of course, Valor doesn’t lack muscle, either – but Victor can’t help but feel second-hand self-consciousness for him. The other man doesn’t worry, though – slipping his hands underneath Horizon’s loincloth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horizon shimmies down Valor’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> – and Victor, still horrified by the sight, can’t do anything but watch as Horizon rubs a generous amount of oil on his arse.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please, please, just let this end already, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Victor screams inside of Valor’s head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to be horny for my best friend. I’m already in love with him, please just fucking spare me </span>
  </em>
  <span>–</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor watches as Valor’s hands sink into Horizon’s – </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahem.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The noise Horizon makes is straight out of pornography, and Victor wants to jump out of Valor’s body already – but yet he remains, tortured by inappropriate noises until the dream ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Victor wakes up, he has a hard-on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His morning haiku is kind of shitty that day – but no one needs to know except Victor, right?</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why are you so hot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I keep thinking about you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I keep loving you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor’s restraint begins to crack whenever he sees Hop – and it’s killing him slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know if it’s because of the dream – if it’s because he’s in love, or if he’s just bad at controlling his emotions in the first place, but Victor takes one look at Hop and crumbles like a dry cookie with too much shortener. He can actually feel his heart falling – sinking, perhaps – in his chest, dragged down by the current. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every day, Victor tries his hardest not to love Hop. He tries to pretend that he doesn’t look forward to seeing Hop when he returns home – tries to pretend that he doesn’t miss Hop when he goes to work. Victor has never had a friend as close to his heart as Hop – never let someone other than Hop see his most vulnerable sides. But he knows that if he takes another step into their relationship – confesses his feelings for the man, shares his emotions with full-force – he’ll lose their friendship regardless of whether or not Hop accepts him or rejects him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor can’t let that happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he won’t let it happen – won’t let Hop’s smile be tainted by his feelings of love. He won’t let those gorgeous hazel eyes grow teary because of him. He won’t run his hands through Hop’s hair, nor will he ever kiss those plump, heavenly lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll die with his feelings clutched to his chest.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor uses poetry to vent his feelings. No one knows this – and no one needs to know. He plans on keeping things that way. So when Gloria comes to their flat, knowing the nosy woman she is, Victor hides his journals all over his room. In drawers, in between pages of books, underneath his bed, taped to the mattress – really, everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Gloria, being the nosy woman she is, finds it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor, are these </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> about Hop?” she asks, rifling through loose pages on his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you weren’t my sister, I would probably kick you into the next dimension,” Victor groans. “Can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> stop reading them out loud, they’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassing </span>
  </em>
  <span>–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! They’re cute!” she says, pinching his cheeks like he’s a kid again. “You should post these on Watch-pad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Victor frowns, snatching the papers out of her hands. He should have shredded them after all – but it’s too late for that now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine, maybe not,” she sighs. “But at least show them to Hop! He’d love these!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I?” Victor huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria frowns. “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>not?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s so deeply in love with you that he won’t even look at me,” Victor replies, running a hand through his hair. “And plus, he’s so busy with work anyway – he doesn’t have time to deal with a confession, much less my unrequited feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you, like, even asked him?” Gloria huffs. “I’m 99% sure he doesn’t like me that way – maybe he did ten years ago, but now is a different story. Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way he looks at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want to confess to someone who doesn’t feel the same,” Victor replies. “Listen – let’s stop talking about this, it’s making me sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just too </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Gloria teases. He knows she’s partially right – but admitting it outwardly is a different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid, just not foolish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, Vic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, he feels like they’ve had this conversation before – but he shakes it off, distracting himself with Gloria’s recent adventures.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Hey, Vic,” Hop pipes up during a commercial break, “what would you do if I suddenly disappeared?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Startled, Victor crushes the juice box in his hand, squirting sweet Pecha goodness all over his shirt and shorts. The liquid trickles over his thighs – and Gloria’s voice echoes in his head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it looks like pee!</span>
  </em>
  <span> As Hop frets over Victor’s soaked state, Victor is left to ponder the question – what </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> he do?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Probably cry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then, I’d search for you. Even if I die doing it, I’d want to find you. After all, you’re the person I like.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t say that out loud, however – so as they’re cleaning up the mess he made, he settles for a simpler answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you disappeared, I don’t think I’d be able to continue with my life as usual,” he says. His clothes are sticky, and the couch is damp – and he feels bad for interrupting their show again. But Hop looks interested in hearing him out – so he keeps going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think if you were gone, I would be very sad. At first, I’d be worried about you – I would contact the police, I would ask everyone where you went. And when people say they don’t know – I’d start looking for you. Even if it means leaving everything behind – you’re my best friend, and not knowing your whereabouts or your safety would probably ruin me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor,” Hop says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know why tears are falling from his best friend’s eyes – but he holds Hop close to him anyway, patting him on the back until he finally calms down. They sit on the couch like that – Victor with his sticky legs, and Hop with tears drying on his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you okay?” Victor asks after a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop looks at him with a face that screams “no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a dream,” Hop says, “where I died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” Victor asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Hop sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His entire body shakes as he lays over Victor, wheezing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There have been several reports of rogue Pokémon randomly Dynamaxing around Route 7, possibly due to an influx of meteor showers –”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor shuts off the television.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them are already wrapping up for the night – and Victor is fucking exhausted. And gross. He’s sweaty and sticky with juice on his legs, and he didn’t even get to write a poem yet –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, a poem.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lips pink like Pecha berries,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Summer days with hazel eyes,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hair like wisteria blossoms,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Skin smoother than a Spheal’s.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re the forbidden fruit I gaze at,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But unlike Eve, I willingly resist.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Have you ever noticed that your dreams of the past seem to revolve around the phases of the moon?” Gloria asks after one of Victor’s matches in the Battle Tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Did you notice a pattern?” he asks, wiping the sweat from his neck. “I haven’t really been paying attention to mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span> occur on the waning crescent and waxing gibbous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The what and the what?” Victor has never been too well-versed in moon phases – he knows that the crescent is obviously a crescent, but what the fuck is gibbous?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just look it up,” Gloria says, clearly annoyed by his lack of knowledge. “You’ll figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take too long for him to notice that his dreams occur on the nights of the full and new moons – but he’s not really sure what significance that has in his life, regardless. It doesn’t make sense – not to him, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it’s mimicking your philosophy,” Bede suggests when Victor brings it up at lunch after a practice match. “You know, the one about cycles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t know how Bede knows about his beliefs, but to be fair, he has a point. Somehow, someway, their lives tie into the universe – Victor has always known that. But for the universe to actually micromanage his life is a different story – and a disturbing one at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think this world is sentient?” he asks Zacian one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head at him like a clueless puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, do you think that nature controls our fates,” Victor elaborates.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says, shaking her glamorous mane. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think you control your fate. Maybe Arceus does have some say in it, but I wouldn’t know. I’m still fairly young for a legendary beast, you know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s had the time to mull over all these conversations, Victor feels somewhat lonely. There’s no right answer to why he dreams – nor if they’re bound to repeat the mistakes of their past lives. Three hundred years ago, Eternatus was a scared alien. Now, she’s essentially one of Victor’s closest pals – she likes head scratches and spicy food like the rest of his team. Understanding why his dreams occur is necessary for him to finally feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, but the world doesn’t seem to want to give him an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Victor learns how to pick up a pen again – and channels his frustration into letters and words, boiling his feelings down into their bare essences. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your smile is like an eternity </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everlasting beauty, sunshine on wind</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You do not have a single fallacy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Every time I look at you, I grin</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Each moment I carefully save in pen</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Record of your starry humanity</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You are an angel among mortal men</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your skin’s glow drives me to insanity</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My love, you are the genesis</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Beckoning to my soul over lifetimes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All my pains removed by your medicine</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I close my eyes, your voice sings and chimes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if one day you would be mine</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Til then, I bask on the sandy shoreline</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor tears the sonnet up and throws it into the fireplace, letting it ignite and burn away. Watching it dissipate is somewhat calming – it settles the longing in his heart for a bit, even if it is just for a few seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe his feelings can one day turn to ash, too.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Gloria calls him over to the Route 7 crater one night, binoculars in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a meteor shower, and the sky is free of pollution here since it’s so close to Spikemuth,” she explains to him over a spotty video call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, he doesn’t want to go – he has work the following day, and it’s getting really late – but when Hop says he’s going, he finds himself tagging along. He swears it’s not because he wants to make sure Hop doesn’t make a move – it’s because he just wants to spend time with his crush, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>– but Gloria never believes him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he and Hop arrive, he notices Marnie standing at the crater’s rim, gazing up at the galaxy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you coming down into the crater?” Hop asks her. “Gloria’s probably down there by herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marnie purses her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says. “Piers says it’s dangerous down there, even if it really is gorgeous. Don’t get your boxers in a twist, though – if you wanna go, just go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trek down isn’t difficult in the slightest – the pathway carved into the side of the crater spirals down slowly. Somehow, the impact site of the meteorite feels otherworldly – Victor is sure that he’s never seen something stranger in his life. At least not in this one, he corrects himself – after all, he can never be too sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made it!” Gloria cheers as they approach her. “I can’t wait to wish on some stars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Victor says. “What are you wishing for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just ask someone that, Vic,” Hop laughs. “It won’t come true if you tell someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What a foolish postulate,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor thinks. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria and Hop sit down on a large boulder lodged in the ground. Banded red and blue, the rock really is a work of art – perhaps from another world. For some reason, he stands to the side, watching as Gloria and Hop seem to tap into each other’s auras.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you wanna sit down?” Hop asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, thanks,” Victor says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitterness settles in his heart as he stares up at the spring sky – nearly green from his point of view. Verdant emerald heavens, just in the corner of his eye – Victor files the memory away for a future remedy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stars only </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>begin to peek out after eight p.m. – he isn’t sure why Gloria wanted to come so early. His legs are beginning to ache, and his body feels heavy – so he sits cross-legged on the ground, watching as indigo begins to seep into the sky’s canvas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the leather covers of his journals, the crepuscular nature of the atmosphere feels smooth against his skin. Yet somehow, the darkness is unsettling – and all Victor wants to do is get up and run. He doesn’t, though – patiently waiting for the meteors to glance across the sky like glittering rockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah – look, guys!” Gloria exclaims. Victor has to shift his entire body to observe the first shooting star of the night – and to be fair, it’s gorgeous. “Let’s make our first wish!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor closes his eyes – begs the world to let Hop love him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the next meteor passes by, it seems to wink at him – and Victor feels his heart surge with hope. He has to punch it back down so it doesn’t bubble out of him, and everything feels all tingly and warm and too surreal. In retaliation, his body demands that he stretch his legs after lying about – so he gathers himself together and stands on his own two feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria and Hop seem to have the same idea, slowly rising from their seats – or perhaps they just don’t want to get blood clots. Either way, the group crowds near the crater wall, watching as the stars fall, losing their spark as they burn up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One particular comet glows brighter than the rest – and Victor is so distracted by its luminescence that he doesn’t even notice the ground shaking underneath them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so glad we came out here tonight,” Victor murmurs to himself, closing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t hear the roar of the earth – nor Gloria’s shouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move, you idiot!” she screams at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When did she and Hop move to the center of the crater?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria breaks into a sprint as he looks up to see the crater’s rim crumbling underneath the Toxtricity’s foot. Before he can react, his sister grabs ahold of his wrist – flinging him away from the danger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He skids across the dirt on his back, kicking up dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Gloria </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As he looks up, everything begins to move in slow motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No </span>
  </em>
  <span>–</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sister, mid-fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spear of rock, only centimeters from her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A violet sky – just like his dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can only watch as the rod of stone pierces through her scapula with an audible crunch. Her voice buckles in pain, and even from a distance, Victor can see the way her eyes flutter shut. Straight through her lung – through her torso – the blood-drenched stone finalizes a path through her stomach, poking out ever-so-slightly as her wails turn into sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor retches onto the ground once and passes out.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sunlight filters through the blinds – caressing his face with loving warmth. Even with his eyes sealed shut, phosphenes dance around – and for some reason, Victor feels safe. He rubs at his eyes, yawning softly before he begins to take in his surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s back in his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no scent of vomit on his clothes – and from what Victor can tell, he’s relatively uninjured. Sure, Victor can hear Gloria’s scream reverberate in his mind, but all of the evidence points to the situation as a really bad fever dream. He’s had dreams like this before – witnessing another death is normal, he supposes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still feels like shit, but knowing Gloria is still alive is enough to make him feel a little better. Victor checks the time – he’s usually never awake before his alarm goes off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>10:32 AM.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, did I oversleep again?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor thinks to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll just call in sick, I guess. Where’s Rotom?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Normally, his phone is charging on his nightstand – but as he rifles through his knick-knacks, he can’t seem to find it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I must’ve left it outside somewhere. I’ll just go and get it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The living room lights are on – which is a little weird, but he doesn’t think much of it. He stumbles through toward the dining area – if anything, he’d likely left his device on the table after dinner before passing out. He’s just about to enter the space when he notices something </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop is sitting at the table, head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t know how to feel as he watches his best friend and long-time crush sob from the doorway. In fact, Victor doesn’t even know if he should be feeling anything at all – why is Hop upset? Did he get into a fight? Perhaps he’s stressed at work – that would be reasonable, Victor nods to himself. Either way, it’s best to ask – nothing will come from waiting around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop looks at him with puffy red eyes and circles darker than a Pancham’s. The professor-in-training half-smiles – and then frowns – and then winces. “I should be asking that of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Victor repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop nods solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he insists, sitting in his usual spot, adjacent to Hop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop looks like he doesn’t believe Victor. “You vomited on the crater floor and cried as I dragged you out of there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor feels panic rise up in his chest. “No, no – that can’t be right,” he says, shaking his head. “All of that – it was just a bad dream, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop looks at him like he’s seen a ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gloria is alive, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each word, Victor feels a little dizzier – and a little sicker, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop pulls him into an awkward over-the-table hug – and Victor lets out an uncomfortable grunt. Somehow, Victor finds himself climbing into Hop’s lap and curling up on his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Hop whispers, “she’s gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor knows in his heart that Gloria is gone – but it doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. Tears prick his eyes, his hands shake with rage, his throat itches as if he needs to scream –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Victor sobs. “Wasn’t there anything the doctors could do to save her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, a breath –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She... was pronounced dead at the scene,” Hop says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my fault,” Victor chokes out. “I wasn’t paying attention –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop shushes him, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saying those things won’t bring her back,” he says with a forced smile. “And she wouldn’t want you to blame herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor presses his ear to Hop’s heart as he shrinks into himself. He can hear the beating of Hop’s heart – and somehow, the sound is calming. Hop runs his hands through Victor’s hair, massaging his scalp as he cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Victor murmurs. “I – I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t live without her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop’s breath grows jagged as they both try not to break down.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>His poem book lays untouched for weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Empty, like the spaces between words and sentences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With no feelings to translate, Victor doesn’t write (even though he probably should).</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Things get better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, they’re supposed to – but he hasn’t really had a chance to confront his feelings. He does suppose his busy schedule is his own fault, but can anyone really blame him? Instead of taking a break to mourn, Victor has filled each hour with battles and training and exercise. And he doesn’t – no, he can’t look at Hop when they eat. It reminds him too much of the day after Gloria passed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Victor says one night when he’s pressed right against Hop’s chest. “Can I ask you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With tired eyes, Hop lets out a rumbling sigh to let Victor know he’s listening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You loved Gloria, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop blinks twice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not romantically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor seems taken aback by Hop’s denial. Hop has never been difficult to read – his face screams he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>never liked Gloria in a more-than-platonic way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, your sister was great and all – but she was, like, totally into Marnie,” Hop shrugs. “I never saw her as anything more than a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I kinda noticed,” Victor lies. He really hadn’t – Arceus, was he that dense? Then again, he’d always been a bit dull when it came to relationships – so it really wasn’t his fault if he didn’t get it. Victor had always expected that Hop loved Gloria, after all – wasn’t it a scenario straight out of the movies? A foreign girl meets a small-town boy who helps introduce her to happiness, and then they fall in love and get married. It sounds like a synopsis – and with all of Hop’s fretting over his sister and calling out her name in his dreams, it’s hard to believe anything otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. He’d been silent for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s been a while since her death, but…” Hop pauses. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe tomorrow,” he says. “I’m really tired right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only half a lie – as soon as he snuggles into Hop’s embrace, Victor falls asleep.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>A year passes by, and Victor can’t shake the feeling that there’s something missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No – </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his dreams, Victor sees his sister. He witnesses her iridescent smile – her eyes which refract light like prisms. She dives into starlight – into far-off galaxies, with wings made of ice and dust. She burns like a meteorite – red into yellow into white into blue – like Zacian’s mane. She smiles at him, whispers that it’s okay, that he’s not alone. Promises line her robes in golden stitching – “I’ll still be there when you wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when Victor opens his eyes, Gloria is still gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gala, however, continues to make appearances in his dreamworld.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long brown hair and kind hands. Her favorite color is still pink in his dreams. Like Gloria is still alive, her lookalike mimics her every behavior and every word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor wishes Gloria was still alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it’s wrong, perhaps he doesn’t deserve something so selfish. Sometimes, Victor can hear Valor say the exact same thing – just a stupid, repetitive cycle of life and death and sacrificial lambs and thinking that they were the ones who were supposed to disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s too late for that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor glances up from his work. There’s no one else in the room – had he merely imagined a voice? Perhaps he really should take that therapy offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, you dimwit, it’s me – Gloria.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. A large crack appears above him – and soon, it grows, splitting apart the room to reveal a multicolored night sky. Another dream – he must have fallen asleep again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How terrible – to be tortured by this idea of “reincarnation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess I was wrong to believe you missed me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, some kind of ghost invading my mind?” Victor huffs. “Listen – it was my fault you died. Aren’t you supposed to hate me or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh, no?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gloria responds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works, Vic.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me,” he says. For some reason, his voice comes out angry – he doesn’t mean to yell. He doesn’t want to scare her or upset her – but Victor is so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>lonely. “How does this work? How does any of this work? Why is this happening to me – no, to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria doesn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re stuck here,” Victor says. “You’re stuck in my dreams and you need to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t have a home!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is emotion-shattering – loud, bright, otherworldly. Victor doesn’t understand what’s happened to her – but Gloria is unbearably overwhelming all of a sudden, and he can’t take it, covering his ears as her intensity amps up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck – shit,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she sighs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Victor – please don’t be afraid.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” he says. He’s more annoyed than anything else, to be frank.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Listen – I am stuck, but not in your dreams. I’m stuck in Galar. I haven’t seen anything else like me yet… I don’t even really know if I’m a person! Can you believe that?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gloria does a spin, striking Leon’s Charizard pose – and Victor feels that hole in his heart again. She’s trying to be cheerful even despite her circumstances – trapped in a world where she’s completely alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t really know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she admits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That girl – Gala – is a part of me, it seems. But she isn’t me. And one day, she wished for us to be together again. She didn’t know that it would, I don’t know, eternally cause a cycle of reincarnation every one hundred years? I mean, she was kind of an enigma, but she probably wasn’t aware that she would cause so much pain –”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Stop right there,” Victor interrupts. “Are you saying there are others like us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t know?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gloria asks, confused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe I’m just seeing more shit because I’m dead and therefore permanently stuck in my own subconscious?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is fucked up,” Victor says. “What the fuck are we supposed to do? Don’t you like… wanna not be bound to this earth forevermore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, but we don’t really have a choice,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gloria shrugs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The cycle is bound to continue – a girl who embodies Gala’s desires will always appear, and then she’ll die. She’ll have a twin who will save the world with their childhood best friend. And then, the best friend –”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gloria freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Hop?” Victor presses. He can feel his voice shake in fear – will something happen to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Victor – no,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says, shaking her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t tell you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” he asks, getting up from his chair to approach her. He can’t really reach her all too well, but at least he’s trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t want to make you sad.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m already sad. Gloria, if anything happens to Hop, I – I at least want to be prepared for it,” he says. “I didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> him –”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He dies,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gloria says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Victor’s body chooses the perfect time to wake itself up.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Hop isn’t around, Victor begins to experience the true meaning of “loneliness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someday, Hop will die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the only thought that roams around in his head nowadays – a blight that festers in his mind. Victor knows that </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> dies eventually – but currently, Hop is practically his everyone. With Gloria’s prophecy and the knowledge of their fates, Victor can’t help but feel hopeless against his own mind. The cure to the constant pain in his life is simple – focus his thoughts on frivolous things such as lust and greed and gluttony, and shut everyone out until they no longer want to speak with him. His friends only remind him of Gloria, and he doesn’t want anything to do with memories of Gloria – but he still sees Hop every day, still sleeps in the same bed as him, still looks at him and feels his heart wrench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hop isn’t around, Victor becomes numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking back, he can hardly remember the day Gloria died – although the images should remain stark and vivid in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No – Victor can hardly remember Gloria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own sister – he can’t hear her voice or see her face anymore. In his dreams, he never sees her – only Gala. Gloria’s death was, in essence, a reenactment of Gala’s. Victor wishes it hadn’t been – Gloria was her own person, regardless of what the universe says. If Gloria’s soul has been erased from his memories because she’s gone, Victor doesn’t want to disappear. Victor doesn’t want Hop to disappear like Gloria has, either – doesn’t want to lose track of Hop like he’s lost track of Gloria as she roams in ghost-form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t want to see her. No, he doesn’t want to see her – Gloria’s face smiling back at him from newspaper clippings, from the obituary, from her photo face-down on the fireplace – Victor doesn’t want to see it. Victor wants to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gloria</span>
  </em>
  <span> – the real thing, not a doppelganger or the so-called “original.” Victor wants to see his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life bewilders Victor, just as feelings do.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screw fate. Screw destiny and all of that godforsaken bullshit. Whose idea was it to let humans be reborn and suffer the same shitty fates over and over?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor hates them – he hates this. He hates feeling like he’s incompetent – like he’s the reason for Gloria’s death. He hates that some shitty sorceress three hundred years ago made a wish that has already ruined three whole generations of lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he didn’t even get to </span>
  <em>
    <span>choose</span>
  </em>
  <span> the path he wanted to take. Victor never wanted to be a puppet in a play – he never wanted to perpetuate the mistakes of the past. He never wanted to let Gloria die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet that’s what he’s become, hasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To think that magic can misconstrue one’s words so terribly – what a horrible thing repetition is. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>His office’s walls are painted red and gold, like luck and victory. It was Leon’s, once – before he’d lost to Victor, the stellar man decorated the room head to toe. Really, it’s an eyesore – but Victor is too lazy to change it, and the red kind of suits him, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… Victor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small voice catches his attention – and Victor turns his head toward the door. Allister stands there on his own – slightly unsure, but with an underlying air of boldness that only the Ghost-type trainer can pull off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Allister,” Victor grins, greeting him with a flashy smile. “I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m always happy to see a good friend. How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… fine,” the younger boy says, dragging his feet as he reluctantly wanders into the room. “I actually was gonna ask you about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Victor cocks his head, feigning ignorance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… you seem to have… troubles,” Allister mumbles. “I can… sense them. And recently, they’ve been getting worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why Allister decided to pick </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of all times to confront him about his chakras or whatever is unknown to Victor – but he does feel a little bit grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve kinda been haunted… uh, by a dream ghost,” Victor admits. “I mean – Gloria.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the other one?” Allister asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Victor asks, taken aback by the question. “I don’t… know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” the boy says. “Uh, they aren’t talking to me, but they look really sad? And they kind of look like you… are you sad right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister is dead,” Victor frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… but are you sad?” Allister repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor hums. “You know, now that I think about it, I’m angry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allister looks like he’s going to shrink into himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh – not at you! It’s a really long story – I don’t want to bother you with it,” Victor admits with a forced chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy shakes his head. “I can listen. I have time – and I want to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn’t know if he deserves this – deserves to be lent an ear, deserves kindness and friendship and help. How can he, when his very existence is the reason why his twin sister is gone?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re crying,” Allister whispers. “Victor – whatever I can do to make you feel better – I’ll do it. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t look at his friend’s panicked face and paling expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made me stronger. Let me help you regain your strength – even if it’s just this once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor is a dying star – spilling his emotions out with every breath he takes. In milliseconds, he lets his walls fall. He tells Allister about Gloria – about Gala, about Valor. He confesses his feelings for Hop – which apparently have spanned across hundreds of years at this point. He sobs about Hop’s death being practically prophesied – lets his tears sink into his friend’s black-and-purple hoodie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He doesn’t tell Allister about the inappropriate dreams, though – that’s a matter best reserved for himself.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allister’s ability to become so fine-tuned to other people has fueled his capacity for empathy. He lets Victor snivel and complain and mope over things he’s never heard of. He listens to Victor’s pains – and instead of offering solutions, Allister just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hugs</span>
  </em>
  <span> him and lets him pour everything out until there’s no sadness left to spill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of it, Victor is a puffy-eyed mess, but he feels a little better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor, I had no idea you were going through such hard times,” Allister says. “If you ever want advice – or just to talk, I’m here for you. We all are. Me, Bea, the other Gym Leaders – we’re your friends, not just your colleagues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Thank you,” Victor whispers. “I just – wish there was some way to break the chain of events. Save Hop from death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I heard something once about breaking soul hexes, but I don’t know if it’s true,” Allister says. “Do you want to hear it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor doesn’t know what soul hexes are, but anything is helpful. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, if you can fulfill the caster’s original wish – then the curse will be broken,” Allister says. “I don’t know how that works for you… since you’re dealing with a three-hundred-year-old wish made by a dying woman. But you’ve seen snippets of her life through her brother’s eyes – so maybe – maybe you can understand her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wanted to be reborn – and it was fulfilled,” Victor says. “We were reunited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> did she want you to reunite?” Allister asks. “Think about it – conjure her up in your mind – what things did Gala say to you? What about Gloria? What sticks with you the most?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arguments,” Victor says. “But I’m not sure what that has to do with granting wishes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you argue about? Alternatively – if you can piece together a timeline of Valor’s life, what do you keep seeing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We kept arguing about my feelings for Hop – and I keep seeing Valor and Horizon fucking,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor thinks. He doesn’t say it out loud, of course – Arceus, protect Allister’s innocence, please – but if what Allister is saying is true, then all of this reincarnation shit is because –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want me to tell Hop,” Victor realizes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allister cracks a small smile. “Well, if it’s that easy, then why don’t you just say it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor wants to nod and agree – but really, how does one confess to someone they’ve been in love with for kind-of-but-not-quite three whole centuries?</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Victor sure has been reading a lot of Quakespeare lately,” Sonia comments one day. Hop has been on his lunch break for a total of three minutes and thirty-four seconds before she brings it up – yes, he’s counting because he needs the money – and honestly, even though she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to interrupt him, he’s kind of intrigued. “He won’t stop posting quotes on his Rotogram.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonder what that’s all about,” Hop mutters, turning back to his hastily-made grilled cheese sandwich. Sure, the cheese isn’t fresh – it’s stringy and clearly aged, but Hop likes it that way. He’s always preferred the scenic route – gorgeous fields of golden wheat and trillions of blue and purple pansies that line the side roads of Turffield; pink and aqua hydrangea bushes sneakily blooming during June in Ballonlea; Circhester Bay’s amphitheater of snow and ice painting aurora skies in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop has fallen in love with time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, that’s not right – he’s fallen in love with the things brought to him by time’s steady hand. With his needle always trained on Leon, he’d been too distracted to realize what really mattered. Leon always embodied everything he’d wanted to be – until he didn’t, and Hop took a step to be his own person. From then on, things seemed like clockwork – moving in with Victor, sharing meals with him, falling asleep next to him, comforting him when he cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When had he first taken the leap? Hop doesn’t remember. It never really felt like he was plummeting to his death. Perhaps it was more like a track-and-field competition – with a one, two, three! Hop falls into Victor’s arms as if he’s trying the triple jump, face-planting into the coarse sand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he’s taken a liking to someone,” Sonia suggests, giving Hop a sly smile. Of course, his mentor takes every opportunity to tease him about his crush – but even just the thought of Victor liking someone else makes Hop want to pull all of his teeth out. “What – don’t make that face. You’re scaring me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What face?” Hop huffs, taking a bite of his sandwich. He really doesn’t have time for this – he needs to scarf his meal down and get back to work. He can think about this later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like Bede,” she says, “with your face all scrunched up and foul like that. You could call me trash, and I’d probably get another mid-life crisis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonia has to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him when he won’t stop cackling.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The galaxy can eat Victor’s ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If confessing to Hop will solve all of his problems and potentially save both of their lives, he’ll do it. Not willingly, of course – who would actually want to have a genuine talk about feelings? Feelings are gross and weird and unprecedented and Victor is </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> with words. Writing on paper and communicating verbally – the difference is so drastic that he’s not even sure where to begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How does one even </span>
  <em>
    <span>begin</span>
  </em>
  <span> a confession?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send a dick pic,” Raihan suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should tell them that you love them!” Leon grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call them a bitch,” Piers says. “Then call them </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys suck,” Victor mumbles, hanging up on them. Even asking for advice seems to be no use – would his words really be conveyed properly with his seniors’ (really shitty) methods? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, they would not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Victor asks Gloria her opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Make him a sign. One that says, “can I eat your ass at the exhibition match of the Challenger Cup?” because I’m pretty sure that would work. It is Hop, after all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not helpful. At all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor really, really wants things to be genuine. He doesn’t want his feelings to be influenced by some hundred-year-old wish. He wants to tell Hop he loves him – not because they were fucking in some past life before Hop tragically died while he professed his love for Victor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Victor wants Hop to know that he loves him for other reasons – that he would want to fall in love with Hop regardless of their preexisting conditions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Victor understands </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself </span>
  </em>
  <span>– which is an odd thought, because he nearly never does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a breath, he opens up his dust-covered journal.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>The world with you by my side is different</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Destiny seems as if it’s jealous of us</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Moving us apart although we do nothing</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re my angel, my lifeblood</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m the warm winter coat that you like to wear</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When it’s snowy out</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let me love you, and maybe us</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“It’s been a while since we hung out like this,” Hop mentions. “I kinda missed this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His emotions are the only thing keeping him awake – Victor wonders how Hop has the motivation to hold a conversation. Most of their food was prepared the prior night – Victor went out of his way to buy Wooloo-shaped bread cutters to make cute sandwiches. He spent hours cutting carrots and celery sticks into flowers and stars – picking out the perfect Watmel berries imported from Hoenn, finding the reddest Roseli berries in bunches. It may be difficult to create a perfect picnic – but one under the jade skies at five in the morning, watching as the stars dissipate into an endless blue? It’s what Victor has always imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this – this is something </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than just imagination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop’s silhouette, surrounded by Illumise and Volbeat underneath the shallow autumn sky; the rolling fields of golden wheat, in their harvesting prime; shapeless shadows that seem like friendly ghosts bowing to meet them; and the pale moon, charming in its wanderlust – the scene is perfect, embedding itself into Victor’s awake mind. The straw picnic basket in his hands is beginning to feel a bit too heavy – but whenever he reminds himself that it’s all for Hop, his chest tightens a little more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sure is cold out here,” Victor comments, feeling a bit breathless. He isn’t sure if it’s because of the long hike or Hop’s reflection in the lake they’ve been walking along, highlighted by the moon and lotus flowers. Right now, he wants to take out his notebook and imprint each moment into adjectives – but he’s so stunned by Hop that he really can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop grabs Victor’s free hand suddenly, pressing warm fingers into his palm. “You’re freezing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor’s heart skips a beat as Hop pulls him into an awkward hug – filling his body with heat as his skin meets wool-lined fabrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot my jacket,” he mumbles into Hop’s chest. “You’re really warm, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can give you mine,” Hop offers, stepping away to remove his overcoat. Victor frowns and shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t you be cold, then?” he smiles. “Plus, that thing is heavy – and I’m still carrying the basket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll carry it,” Hop offers – and Victor’s chest nearly bursts in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>no no no.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahaha, no, it’s fine,” Victor says quickly, moving the basket behind him as Hop reaches for it. He still hasn’t decided whether or not he wants to confess – and if Hop takes out his book at the bottom he’ll definitely read it. As Hop’s face grows increasingly confused, Victor’s internal panic gives him an easy excuse. “Why don’t we just set up here and we can huddle under your jacket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, good idea,” Hop says. “Just like how we normally are in the mornings, but with food and outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor decides to ignore his friend’s comment as he opens the picnic basket’s lid, grabbing the checkered blanket to lay over the grass. “Why don’t we move further away from the lake’s edge? I wouldn’t want our stuff blowing in there, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop hums in agreement as Victor unfolds the mat – and promptly lets go of it as the wind blows. It flies over Hop, covering his face and chest. Victor giggles as his friend struggles to refold the picnic blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be mad at you if you weren’t so cute,” Hop mutters to himself as Victor sets the basket onto the blanket. Victor feels a grin grow from ear-to-ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that, Hop?” he teases. “You think I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, especially when you smile,” Hop says nonchalantly, plopping down on the mat. “Are we gonna eat or what? You woke me up early for this, so it </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How can he say that so easily?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor thinks as he pulls out containers filled with crackers, berries, and vegetables – and then, finally, the Wooloo-shaped grilled cheese sandwiches. “I made these – I hope you like them,” he says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop scoots closer to him, pressing his chest against Victor’s shoulder as he swings his coat over the two of them. “They smell good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d hope so,” Victor says, offering Hop his sandwich. Hop’s pearly smile seems to blot out even the glow of the setting moon – and Victor feels his heart begin to float up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It nearly bursts when Hop leans down and takes a bite of the sandwich – his eyes closing as he tastes Victor’s cooking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor forgets his whole reason for bringing Hop there – only aware of their hearts beating in synchronization and the buzzing of Ninjask that will surely fade after September ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only too late does Victor notice how the rising sun stains the lake redder than blood.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Looks like Victor’s asking for love advice on Rotogram,” Sonia muses over a particularly long lunch break one day. “Guess my intuition was right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop wants to simultaneously shout “yay” because he’s happy for Victor and scream-cry because he also really likes Victor – but neither feeling translates into words. Instead, Hop shrugs and takes a long sip of green tea – his personal treat for the day. He’s gone so long pining after Victor – he might as well just pine for the rest of his life, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the tea too bitter? You look like you’re about to throw up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s perfect,” Hop says. Sure, he does want to fade out of existence, but that doesn’t matter – he’s gotten used to the empty feeling in his heart. If Victor won’t look at him, just as he won’t eat bitter things – perhaps Hop will melt into the dull and harsh taste of a Jaboca Berry – perfect for his feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder why he doesn’t ask his roommate, who happens to have quite a few relationships under his belt, and is popular with the ladies –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop drops his head into his hands, drowning out the sound of her voice with transparent shapes, an aquarium of memories that overflows only when he needs it most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels as if the world really wants him to be miserable today, just like all the other days in his life where Victor isn’t present.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>227</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Raining again, huh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Victor, I’d like to tell you something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I really like you. Not just as friends, but more than that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you – romantically. I want to be with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just once.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop closes his notes app for the night. No number of speeches will make Victor accept his feelings – but Hop wants to pretend, anyway. And Victor – he doesn’t have to know. He probably never will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does he have to be so hot,” Hop groans, laying back on his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor, doused by the ephemeral fires of dawn – scarlet that could be either the sunlight or blush on his cheeks. Victor curling up next to him, pressing those delicate hands against his chest, lulling Hop to sleep with every soft smile – those ideas smolder in Hop’s mind like a bubbling brook against the side of his skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lays in bed, waiting for Victor to saunter into his room like he always does. And when he finally wraps his arms around Victor’s waist, Hop really wonders if he can live like this – wanting but never asking, loving but never really knowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it – no point in staying up late thinking about it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hop thinks, sewing his eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhausted, the man feels all his senses wither away – falling into a deep, senseless slumber.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>No, that isn’t right. Although things are hazy and whirling and crashing like waves in his mind, Hop is awake. Through his eyelids, he can see spotty patterns of light float around like Butterfree on caffeine. Perhaps Victor has turned on the lights – oh god, it’s fucking bright. Hop hisses – or at least tries to – but nothing comes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, Hop is left staring at the marble ceiling – black with gold streaks – bold yet elegant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait – since when was his bedroom ceiling made out of anything but wood?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And those scars – this body is not his, Hop realizes – nor is this bed, nor is this room. In a sense, however, he feels at home – although he doesn’t quite understand how or why. Perhaps it’s Victor’s presence next to him, bare-shouldered and hand wrapped around his.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, why are we both naked?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hop thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t remember this at all?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He tries opening his mouth to ask a question, but all that comes out is a yawn. Luckily, Victor stirs awake, stretching up to kiss Hop’s jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Horizon,” Victor whispers against his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, my king,” he – no, Horizon – whispers back. If Victor likes to roleplay this sort of thing, he’s all for it, but if it’s not Hop who he’s addressing then he really doesn’t want to hear it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can just call me Valor, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor – but he looks like Victor and sounds like Victor, so what the fuck is going on? Although Hop supposes that he does seem to have more wounds on his shoulders and chest as well… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>King</span>
  </em>
  <span> Valor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re my childhood friend and dearest confidant,” Valor responds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. So that’s what this is – a dream of past lives, except King Valor kind of looks and sounds like Victor and Hop is stuck in Horizon’s body for no particular reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This kinda slaps,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks as Valor rises from his spot next to Hop on the mattress. With his toned abdomen and thighs, he looks almost appetizing – Hop is filled with a strange desire to get on his knees and –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. This is happening. Horizon throws the king’s sheets to the side and scrambles onto his hands and knees as Valor beckons him closer. He’s already half hard – and the Sword Hero’s sword definitely doesn’t lack even though it’s not even fully grown. If Hop had control of this body, he would surely gulp in fear – although, he’s sure Horizon isn’t feeling any less nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horizon’s body says otherwise, however, growing prickly with heat and excitement as he dives down to please Valor, pressing his nose against the shaft as he licks from the bottom to the top. He draws his tongue over the tip of Valor’s dick, swirling and bobbing his head in an attempt to satisfy. Hop swears he can taste the salt in Valor’s precum and feel the head of his dick hitting the back of his throat – but it’s just a dream, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valor lifts Horizon off of him with a gentle yet steady grip on his shoulders. His hands are trembling, but his expression is bold and unchanging. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he… afraid?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hop wonders, as Horizon lays back on the silk sheets, exposing himself to Valor. There’s a strange look in his eyes, and it sends unease creeping down Hop’s spine. Somehow, this situation feels unbearable – like a tryst between two lovers – a secret rendezvous with lingering feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valor’s lips graze against Horizon’s inner thigh, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arceus</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s good at this, Hop thinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can actually feel, even though it’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something isn’t right here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hop thinks as Valor brandishes a bottle of oil, a shy smile on his face. “Finger yourself for me?” Valor requests. Horizon holds his hands out expectantly, and Valor drizzles lube onto his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop observes as Horizon works himself up – dragging his fingers across his entrance, circling it, pressing at the center with a dazed sigh. Horizon pushes a single digit inside of himself, and Hop swears he can feel the dull ache. He doesn’t stop, though – sliding in and withdrawing as Valor watches with interest. He watches as Horizon’s body convulses when he adds another finger – hears his raspy moan, feels wetness inside of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Hop could close his eyes, he would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you could cum just like this,” Valor purrs. “Perhaps I should let you have fun on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut it,” Horizon huffs. “If you’re gonna make me do all the work you’d better treat me well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valor giggles – he sounds like Victor even more when he does that – and crawls over his knight. He’s already dripping with saliva from Horizon’s ministrations earlier – and to say that he appears impatient would be an understatement. Valor yanks Horizon’s hands away, settling between his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king brushes back Horizon’s bangs and slides into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wet dreams only happen to adolescents – but here he is, watching a Victor lookalike fuck his brains out. To be fair, he’s enjoying it – but really? Victor is probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> next to him right now – and if Hop mutters “Victor” in his sleep, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to live it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting dream-fucked is, for the most part, less enjoyable than actually getting fucked, Hop notes – though he supposes that’s the case for most things where you’re not actually experiencing them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valor – don’t stop,” Horizon says, voice breathy like he’s said those words a million times before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They sure must do this a lot. Arceus, I wish this were my sex life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop feels tension mount in every muscle – feels their breaths grow heavy, mixing between them. Valor looks at him with such ardor that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> – because all Hop can see is Victor. Tears running down Horizon’s face, he whimpers Valor’s name like it’s the only thing he knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hop wakes up, he’s aroused and simultaneously dissatisfied. Luckily, Victor is passed out next to him, unaware of Hop’s current state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes it to the bathroom and cries his eyes out after.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So you’ll do it, right?” Bede raises an eyebrow at him over their call. “You’re the only one I can trust with this matter, Victor. Ever since…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ever since Gloria died, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Victor’s mind supplies for him. He wants to hang up on his friend right now and call a taxi home – but to be fair, there really isn’t anyone else who has the free time nor the sheer strength to tackle such a huge task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get this straight: you want me to go into Glimwood Tangle – by myself, may I add – and purge the area of invasive Pokémon species such as Gengar and other ghosts,” Victor recounts. “And you’re not even paying me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a salary,” Bede points out, “and you can always get that professor to tag along with you. Although I assume that he’d be more of a hindrance than anything else, I’m not dull – you want to confess to him, don’t you? What better place than the ethereal Ballonlea outskirts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does have a point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could cling onto him and claim I’m scared,” Victor muses. “Okay, I’ll do it. Just don’t let word of this get out. Not that it would matter, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there’s one thing I’m against, it’s gossiping about my friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just call Hop your friend?” Victor laughs. He can practically see Bede’s scowl in all its angry glory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Now hurry up before I change my mind and go extinguish those pests myself.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The forest’s fluorescent mushrooms are like glow in the dark ink on a black canvas – filling in the murkiness with their vibrant colors. Unfortunately, nothing is enough to blot out the shady undertones of the fantastical woodlands. Moss seeps across tree bark, carving out sigils as everything begins to decay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor feels as if a cataclysm is about to occur – and it brings him to cling to Hop even tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place really changed,” Hop says, curling his fingers around Victor’s smaller hand. “I don’t know about you, Vic, but I’m getting weird vibes from this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must be the Gengar,” he murmurs. For the most part, the natural world seems undisturbed – other than the occasional rustling of Impidimp in the distance. Although it’s daytime, any moment spent underneath the thick canopy is essentially spent in eternal darkness. If anything, the whirring of the wind is the most suspicious thing – there’s no place for it to come from, and no place for it to go. And that lifeless, bland droning in the back of his head – that’s a surefire sign that there’s an unwelcome presence in the woods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dubwool won’t be well-suited for this, then,” Hop hums, setting Corviknight into his first slot. “Are you prepared?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly,” Victor replies. Hop squeezes his hand in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hop says. “I’ll be here to protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On cue, a flash of purple gas whizzes past them, stirring up the fallen leaves on the forest floor. Zacian’s ball shakes with anticipation – she’s raring to go even though Victor hadn’t even made the active choice to send her into battle. In sync, he and Hop call out their Pokémon to battle the invading gang of Gengar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, Victor gets so into battling alongside Hop that he forgets to confess a </span>
  <em>
    <span>second </span>
  </em>
  <span>time.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>If Victor wants Hop to be aware of his feelings, he has to confess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows this, and he wants to confess – so why hasn’t he already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two reasons: he keeps getting distracted, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything has to be perfect.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Who wants a shitty confession that’s completely and entirely unplanned? How will Hop interpret his words if he doesn’t make everything clearer than a spooked Kecleon? Victor doesn’t want to fuck up – and most importantly, he can’t afford to fuck things up with Hop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hop, to the degree that his affection has become a staple in his life. Two years ago, he’d thought his 10-year-long crush would eventually fade – but now, he’s just accepted his fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he won’t accept is Hop’s scheduled death, however – and he seriously needs to </span>
  <em>
    <span>focus.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If he wants to stop it, he should confess as soon as possible – and make sure Hop understands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a good location to confess to someone?” he asks Marnie after their Gym Leader Zoombat meeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This about Hop, innit,” she raises an eyebrow at him. When he nods softly, she gives him a solid response. “Circhester Bay. One of those islands where no one can interrupt you. Don’t thank me – gotta go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, her video drops off – leaving Victor to think about her suggestion alone.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So where are you taking me?” Hop laughs as Victor drags him through the snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A special place,” he says. Circhester, regardless of the time of year, is always snowy – and with the halation of the streetlights and the deafening silence of the falling powder, his confession is sure to cut through to Hop’s heart. Victor has selected the perfect location, away from prying eyes and playful Pokémon. Surrounded by icy waters and blanketed by a gorgeous aurora borealis – what better time to confess his feelings?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally reach the frost-covered meadow, they’re taken aback by the sheer number of blue and purple pansies. Growing low to the ground, the flowers thrive even in the snow – and for some reason, Victor’s heart connects their persistence to his love – everlasting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” Victor asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… stunning,” Hop says, staring back at Victor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, they remain like that – content with each other’s presence – wordless, yet fond. Without any noises to distract him, Victor is conscious of the blood rushing through his ears – he can hear his heart pounding in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop, I’d like to tell you something,” Victor manages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” Hop says. “I won’t interrupt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really really cute,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor starts. Hop’s face flushes a deeper color, and he opens his mouth to speak – but Victor’s already continuing his speech. “And I think you’re just the most handsome person I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I’m not just saying that to be nice, either – I really do think so. Your hair is more vivid than a bouquet of orchids – and your eyes reflect more sunlight than lemon quartz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop’s shuffling around in embarrassment by now – but Victor isn’t even partially done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your jawline is perfect, like a model’s – and your hands are always warm. Speaking of your hands – you’ve always comforted me with them, and you have no clue how much I appreciate it. For the longest time I wanted to walk by your side, our hands interlaced. I still do, actually. I know you think your hands are too calloused and rough – but it’s all a product of your hard work. That’s why I’m happy whenever you reach out to me – I’m reminded of everything you’ve done for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victooor,” Hop whines, covering his face with his gloved hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not done,” he says. “You’re so bright. Not just in a smart way – you always go out of your way to cheer me up. Even though I know you’re suffering too, you always try to remain optimistic for me. And it works – when you smile, I feel so happy. In return, I really want to make you happy as well – because you’re important to me. Not just that, I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a rumble in the distance, and then the shuddering of the ground beneath them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you,” Victor yells over the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Hop screams back. “No – tell me later! There’s an avalanche!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. Why does this always happen to me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor thinks as Hop reaches for his hand. Hop’s hand wraps around his wrist as they sprint toward the water. Moving is difficult when they’re both ankle-deep in snow – Victor can’t imagine how slow the Rotom Bike would be in this situation. Still yet, he reaches for his phone with his free hand – putting the bike on standby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind them, the avalanche muffles the valley – covering the flowers in a blanket of white and grey. It continues on, chasing after them indiscriminately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re nearing the coast, panting in their multiple layers of clothing – and unfortunately, it becomes clear just how unprepared either of them are for this as Hop slips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stumbles forward, he lets go of Victor’s wrist – effectively saving Victor from falling into the icy waters of Circhester Bay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Hop tumbles in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arceus, no,” Victor hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does destiny seriously hate him that much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he activates the bike, he grabs Centiskorch’s ball, sending it out on the shore. Hop surfaces – though his lips are already blue – coughing as he shakily drags himself onto the ice-and-sand beach. Luckily, the water near the shore is relatively shallow – but still, Hop’s state is </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> concerning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop, are you okay?” Victor asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is clearly not. The poor man is wheezing and spitting – which is definitely not a good sign. “Cold,” he says, teeth chattering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should – take you to the hospital,” Victor suggests, doing his best not to freak out. “Centiskorch here can warm you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop nods once, and Centiskorch wiggles its way toward him, wrapping its long body around him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He kind of looks like a damp red burrito,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Victor notes – and then Hop begins to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Centiskorch is really hot!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he yells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parka is on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor recalls Centiskorch instantly, and his friend drops to the floor and begins to roll around, putting out the flames in a matter of seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It hurts,” Hop says, laying on the ground face down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suffice to say, Hop sustains multiple burns that day – and Victor’s planned confession remains, for the most part, unheard.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You set him on fire and now he’s in the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Victor says. “It was an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonia looks exhausted – her hair is a mess, her safety goggles are cracked, and her nail polish is chipping off. Victor knows that she always gets the gel type, which is harder to remove – so she’s definitely been up to something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It says in the dex that Centiskorch’s flames can reach up to 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit,” she sighs. “Did you apologize to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Multiple times,” Victor groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long will he be out for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Sonia says. “Perfect for you to take care of him and make it up to him – and confess to him while you’re at it. Seriously, all this dancing around isn’t doing you two any good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confess?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He probably hates me now,” Victor says, balling his hands into fists. “I feel really bad about getting him hurt. He almost died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost dead is still alive,” she shrugs. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but he really cares about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what to say to that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say anything, I just thought you should know,” Sonia says, taking a sip of her coffee. “Just… tell him before it’s too late. I don’t want either of you to end up alone.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>[00:21] Victor: hey hop. i’m sorry about what happened earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[00:21] Victor: i don’t know if you’ll want to hear this from me, but i love you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[00:23] Victor: don’t feel pressured to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[13:21] Victor: i miss you</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span> “Victor!” Hop grins. “You haven’t visited in three days! I was wondering where you were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite ignoring Victor’s messages, Hop doesn’t seem a single bit different. If anything, Victor is the only one who seems to feel awkward – dread settling in his viscera and his mouth going dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… you didn’t respond to my messages, so I thought I should give you some space,” Victor replies sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh? You sent me something?” Hop says, surprised. “My phone was kinda destroyed by the water, though… it hasn’t turned on since then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Victor says. “So you didn’t see… okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See what?” Hop asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh. Apologized and stuff,” he says. It’s not a lie – he just omitted the most important thing he said. And that’s okay – maybe Hop just isn’t ready to hear it yet. He’s still recovering, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor, I already forgave you ten times over!” Hop pouts. “I would’ve gotten hypothermia otherwise – and personally, I think that’s much worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean – you’re still hurt,” Victor rasps. “To be honest, I still feel bad about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you wanna do me a favor, then forget about it,” Hop smiles. “And just stay by my side.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Hop doesn’t know how to feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were Victor’s words the beginnings of a confession, or was he just expressing his gratitude? Hop doesn’t know how to interpret any of Victor’s words. He wants to tell Victor all of his worries – how Victor’s wrong, how Hop isn’t even half as amazing as Victor says he is – but he’s too spineless to even tell Victor as the shorter boy rubs the back of Hop’s palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like this, Hop feels worthless – a trillion times more useless than Victor seems to believe he is. The only thing he can do is dream of being by Victor’s side – but even those are marred by misery when his demons destroy both of them. What can he even do to deserve the spot by Victor’s side? All he does is get hurt over and over – whether it’s physically or emotionally, Hop can’t handle himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop, I can practically hear your negative thoughts,” Victor says, interrupting his self-pity session. “Is there anything I can do to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he fibs, letting his eyes slide shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never… finished telling you,” Victor says quietly. “But rather than saying what I was going to say back there – I want to thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For giving me a name – for teaching me about kindness and dreams. I never really knew what to do when we first came to Galar – so I just followed your lead,” Victor admits. Hop wants to argue back – but Victor’s eyes are so genuine that he can’t utter a word of disdain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cool,” he says instead. “Especially when you’re so blunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor runs his hand through that swoopy bang on his forehead – and Hop feels his heart resound in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to live in a world without Victor by his side – and even if he doesn’t deserve that spot, as long as he’s given the opportunity to stay there, he’ll remain there.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Victor likes taking care of Hop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if his chest hurts whenever he sees Hop’s bare skin – even if thinking about his face makes Victor’s cheeks flush so red he feels dizzy, Victor wants to help him through his recovery. Whenever his fingers brush against Hop’s stomach while he’s changing his bandages, his ears are blessed with Hop’s clumsy, melodic laugh. And when he smiles, Victor drinks up the prismatic stars left behind by his brightness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor wants to weave a poem out of constellations, then crush each word into stardust and rewrite their destinies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking too loud,” Hop says, ruffling Victor’s hair. His warmth lingers when he pulls away his hand – and Victor craves more. “I’m trying to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Victor says. “I just missed your voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to talk about something random, then?” the other man laughs. “I don’t have anything interesting for you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t strain yourself,” Victor says. “I’m happy like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hop rests his head on Victor’s shoulder – and just for a moment, it’s enough to make Victor forget about the vestiges of their never-ending lifetimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor, what were you gonna tell me back then?” Hop murmurs, eyes half-lidded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this moment, with just the two of them together, Victor forgets about their foretold fates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the words escape his mouth, Victor remembers. All the things that are supposed to happen – the speech, the poem, the ambiance – none of them are present. And yet, somehow – in this underwhelming state, Hop stares back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victor has to glance outside to check if he’s awake – there are no fafrotskies, no boundless void, no sign of Gloria or Valor or Horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just two lovers in a dingy room, bodies pressed together as if they need to share heat during a particularly bitter October night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me again,” Victor whispers, tilting his head up slightly. Hop takes the hint, and with a brisk movement, their lips meet. Warm, caring, without a struggle – Victor doesn’t even know how to describe the feeling it gives him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in lifetimes – Hop and Victor can be together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>be sure to leave a kudos if you enjoyed this or if you cried!</p><p>feel free to request what prompts you'd like to see in the comments or on my <a href="https://curiouscat.me/nashijang">curiouscat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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